


In Tenebris

by SociopathicArchangel



Series: 25 Lives [5]
Category: Don't Hug Me I'm Scared (Short Film)
Genre: F/M, back in chrono, this was super fun actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-25 09:06:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3804691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SociopathicArchangel/pseuds/SociopathicArchangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waking up feels like dying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Tenebris

_The first thing he thinks when he catches sight of her in the middle of the playground all by herself is that she’s beautiful. Pastel rainbow curls cascading down her back like a majestic waterfall, soft lashes that catch snowflakes as she stares up the sky – the way she stands doesn’t make her look like the awkward, lumbering child in a body they’re still getting used to. She’s ethereal. A siren in the body of one barely ten years old, beckoning people with their beauty and then devouring them whole._

_But children are rarely afraid of mystical creatures._

_Tony is not afraid of her._

_He stares up the sky as he stands beside her, gloved hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat. His breath turns to mist in the weather. At the corner of his eye, he sees that hers doesn’t do the same. There’s no mist. In fact, she’s probably not even breathing. Another tally on her list of oddities._

_She’s not even shivering in that flimsy nightgown she’s wearing._

_Tony turns to her. A million questions race in his mind but he doesn’t know how to voice out one of them._

_Instead, she’s the one who turns to him, “What are you doing here?”_

_“I’m waiting for my mom,” he says. She frowns a little, looks down and bites her lower lip. “What about you, what are you doing here?”_

_The girl’s voice is almost a whisper, “I don’t know.”_

-

Tony opens his eyes to the sunlight peeking through the curtains and blinding him.

He groans and rolls over. One glance at the clock on the desk tells him that it’s twenty minutes early from when he usually gets out of bed and he throws the covers over his head, dragging out another groan.

Unfortunately, he’s one of those people who can’t go back to sleep no matter how hard they try once they’ve woken up. So Tony gets out of bed and goes through his morning routine. Shower, get dressed, coffee, breakfast, work.

He doesn’t hate his job, but he doesn’t enjoy it either. Children weren’t his area of expertise, which was why he chose to be a High School teacher (working on a doctoral at the moment), but some of them had only outgrown their bodies and not their minds.

The moment he enters the room, his presence commands attention and the entire class shuts up. Tony walks up to the desk and tells them they were going to have a pop quiz; the students barely muffle their groans out of fear. He smirks. Let’s see who were paying attention and who studied diligently. About a fourth of the class is going to fail History this year.

After lunch, he makes his way towards his next class when another professor suddenly turns down the hallway and bumps into him in the process. They both drop their books. Both curse.

“I am so sorry,” says the other teacher as they both bend down to pick up their respective volumes. English, Tony catches a glance at one textbook. Oh, right, no wonder they weren’t familiar. The school had a new English substitute teacher after the last one went on a pregnancy leave

“It’s fine,” he says. They both stand up to full height and Tony finds that they’re almost as tall as each other.

But that’s not what makes him stop and nearly drop his books again. It’s the pinkish skin, red hair and candy green eyes that he’s only ever seen in his dreams. Tony realizes that he’s actually very, very familiar with this man.

Harry bows his head as he apologizes once again and walks past him to get to his own class.

-

_“So you don’t remember anything?” he tilts his head to the side._

_The girl looks up the sky again, “I don’t. I don’t remember how I got here, I don’t remember my own name, I don’t – I don’t even remember what I am.”_

_Human? He thinks, but her indifference to the cold is…she sighs, her breath mists, she shivers. Oh. Human, then._

_“What are you doing out here in the cold?”_

_She frowns again, “What do you mean?”_

_“You’ll freeze to death out here – ” then he stops. Right. Blank slate. She has absolutely no idea how to differentiate warm from cold or if there was anything other than cold._

_“You really don’t know anything?”_

_“No.”_

_A car honks from behind them and he turns to the street to see his mother’s car stop just outside the park. Tony’s forehead creases as he glances from the woman stepping out of the vehicle to the girl beside him. Her lips are blue and goose bumps are all over her arms._

_He takes off his coat and wraps it around her, “Come on.”_

-

He drives home, locks his front door and stays inside his room for the next three hours, doing nothing but sitting on his bed and wallowing in his thoughts.

That man should not be walking around.

That man shouldn’t even exist.

Tony refuses to call him by his name because that would mean he’s acknowledging his existence and he really shouldn’t exist.

Because that meant…that meant…

He shakes his head. He’s being absolutely ridiculous. It was a coincidence. Harry was a very common name. Dogs and cats were named Harry, rodents were named Harry, he knows at least three people during fifth grade who were named Harry. There was absolutely nothing to worry about.

Even if said Harry happened to look exactly like he’s seen him in his dreams – red hair, green eyes, long red hair, at least six feet – this was all a coincidence.

With that in mind, he schools his expression and steps out of his room. He hasn’t had dinner yet and he wasn’t about to starve himself over something so trivial as childhood memories.

-

_She’s absolutely ludicrous. When the car moves, she immediately tries to get out, panicking, until he assures her that it’s all fine and this is how cars work. Which prompts her to ask, “What’s a car?”_

_Even as a child, Tony is capable of a marvelous bitchface._

_They get home (even if she’s yet to call it home, but she’s staying until his mother can call child services) and Tony’s given the task of getting her warm since he was the one who insisted they help her. Truthfully, it’s not about helping her. It’s about her being interesting and he wants to know the hows and whys and whats._

_Still, she tries to drink down the mug of scalding hot chocolate when his mother says that she should take it to warm herself and nearly burns off her tongue in the process. Almost drowns in the shower and comes out like a traumatized cat. Freaks out when the television turns on and hides behind the couch. It’s everything a poor sitcom plot needs._

_His mother finds it adorable though. Tony rolls his eyes._

_“What are we going to call you while you stay here, dear?” she asks._

_The girl blinks. Shrug._

_“Why should we give her a name? She’ll only be staying here for a few days,” Tony points out._

_His mother smiles that one smile that reaches her ears and makes her look like a righteous angel but it’s actually telling him to drop everything and run, “Don’t be rude, Tony.”_

_He clamps his mouth shut. She turns to the girl again, “You really don’t remember your name, sweetheart?”_

_She shakes her head._

_“Why don’t you give yourself one?”_

_“I can do that?”_

_“You can now.”_

_She puts a finger to her lips. Frowns._

_Tony snorts, “Maybe we should just call you Shrug.”_

_His mother hits the back of his head lightly, **“Don’t be rude, Tony.”**_

_The girl muffles her laughter with the back of her hand. Tony glares but doesn’t say anything after his mother’s feral smile widens just a bit. The girl shrugs again, “Maybe I’ll think of something in the morning.”_

_His mother nods, “Sure thing, sweetie.”_

-

It doesn’t help when Harry is expected to join them in faculty meetings. With that red hair, he stands out in the crowd of blues, yellows and greens, and Tony’s eyes immediately snap to him whenever he looks around.

It definitely doesn’t help when he acts just like how Tony remembers him to be.

Kind-hearted, soft-spoken, has a thousand-yard-stare when he glances out the window and a smile that hides a lot of damage underneath.

But they rarely talk to each other and as long as it’s in their mutual interest to stay away from each other (contrary to what the other might think, Tony does notice when Harry glances at him, flinches and then looks away) it’s fine. And Tony has absolutely no problem as the months pass by and the only contact he and the new English teacher have are mumbled greetings of hello, awkward smiles and nods.

Until, of course, one day Harry has to stay in late to grade papers and a friend has to pick him up.

And the one who steps out of the car is Robin.

-

_“How about Art?” asks his mother. It’s hard to report a child who cannot remember their own name, age and doesn’t know if they even had parents in the first place so…they decided to not go through with it and let her live with them. They’ve always been drifters, anyway. Tony’s been through fourteen cities in his ten years of age._

_It’s also been at least two weeks since the amnesiac girl has stayed with them and they needed to call her something._

_Said girl looks up from the pad of paper she’s sketching on. For someone who doesn’t know how to operate a shower, she managed to get a hold (no pun intended) of locomotive hand skills very well. Yesterday she did a flawless portrait of Tony’s mom while she was cooking._

_Tony snorts from the table as he twists the knob of his recently-fixed wristwatch, “That’s a bit…ambitious. Some people are going to ask what’s it short for – artistic? Artillery? Artery?”_

_“You know, I should have named you Talky. I don’t know why I named you Tony,” his mother turns to him and grins._

_Tony sticks his tongue out at her in good-natured humor._

_The girl hums thoughtfully and looks down at her paper full of drawings. She idly places the tip of the pencil to the surface and watches the lead blacken it as she moves it, making scratching sounds. Her eyes light up._

_“Sketch.”_

_“What?”_

_“I want to be called Sketch. I like Sketch.”_

_Tony laughs, “That’s even worse than Art. Why can’t you pick a normal name like Nancy or Mary?”_

_The girl makes a face, “Boring!”_

_Tony’s mother chuckles, “Sketch, huh? It’s nice, I like it.”_

_“Mom, don’t encourage her.”_

_“Tony, let a woman name herself what she likes. Especially if she’s amnesiac.”_

_The newly named Sketch grins._

-

This time he calls in sick for a few days. He needs to set his thoughts straight, otherwise…well.

He digs for the journal he’s kept inside his drawer since he was eighteen and flips the pages open until he gets to the one where Robin’s name is written.

Robin. Right little murderer with a lot of problems.

(But he may know something about her – )

He stamps down the thought. He can’t sleep on the first night. He’s thinking too much. Too much about rainbow curls and screaming and delusions and confusing dreams with reality.

On the second night, he spends most of it combing the wonky timeline he’s written down on the journal.

On the third, he’s made up his mind.

-

_This is the fifth time she’s wandered over to the store window and pressed her face to the glass, ogling the set of 164 color pencils. Tony’s been given the job to make sure she doesn’t get lost since she’s stayed with them four weeks ago, and he does most of that by following her around._

_His mother’s at the groceries and she’s allowed Sketch to go look at the art supplies several stores down._

_Tony sighs. Sketch’s eyes look so hopeful._

_“I know Miss Belle doesn’t have enough money to buy me these, and I’m not asking her to.”_

_He turns to her, raising an eyebrow. She meets his gaze and shrugs, “I just like looking at them. That’s all. No need to pity me.”_

_“I wasn’t.”_

_“Yeah, you were. Lying is bad, Tony~,” there’s that grin again as she singsongs._

_He makes a face, “You were just reintroduced to the human race a month ago.”_

_“Well, your mom’s the most awesome mom I know.”_

_“She’s the only mom you know.”_

_Sketch sobers up at that. She looks down. Tony clamps his mouth shut._

_She smiles – tries to, anyway, it never makes it up to her cheeks – and looks back up at him. He clicks his tongue and sighs heavily through his nose again._

_“Alright, come on,” he grabs her arm and pulls her inside the store; a bell rings as he pushes the door open._

_“What?”_

_“I don’t need you getting weepy all over me when mom gets back. Pick something under fifty pounds.”_

_“What?”_

_“Sketch, pick something under fifty pounds and I’ll buy it for you.”_

_Sketch’s brows furrow before they loosen and she stares at him in horror, “Where did you even get that much money?” she lowers her voice, “Did you go pick-pocketing again?”_

_Tony makes an annoyed noise, “Would you stop asking questions, I’m being generous here.”_

_“Tony – ”_

_“Someone has to help mom with the expenses,” he mumbles, head ducked slightly and eyes darting around the room for prying eyes and ears, “I know she’s all about honest living but if she runs herself ragged, who’s going to take care of everybody?”_

_“But she won’t be happy if she found out.”_

_“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”_

_“It could land her in jail.”_

_“I’ll take the blame.”_

_Sketch straightens, “Brave little mommy’s boy, huh?”_

_“Shut up. I’m just trying to keep us alive.”_

_“Yeah, yeah,” she rolls her eyes and grabs his arm towards the shelves with the markers, “Come on, there’s this set I like that I can’t reach.”_

-

“Do you happen to know anyone named Paige?”

Harry stiffens, blinks and turns towards him, “W-what?”

“Do you happen to know anyone named Paige?” he repeats. He’s normally not this patient, but anyone would give you a weird stare when you suddenly ask them a question that may or may not hit too close to home, especially when said person who asked you doesn’t normally talk to you.

Harry swallows, “Not exactly.”

Tony makes an annoyed noise.

The red head pinches the bridge of his nose and mumbles something that strangely sounds like, “Here we go again, why do I have to do this every time,” before looking up at him, “Yes.”

The sick feeling in Tony’s stomach intensifies.

“Can you take me to see her?”

Harry’s expression turns sad. He says nothing.

-

_“You know, you’re holding the pencil wrong.”_

_“I think I can hold a pencil just fine, Sketch.”_

_“You’re holding it by the middle of its body – it’s easier to draw when you’re holding it near the tip.”_

_“Sketch, I said I was fine.”_

_“See, this is why your handwriting makes ancient Egyptian script look like Times New Roman.”_

_Tony nearly snaps the pencil in half. Sketch snickers and leans back, “Don’t hold it too tight either.”_

_“Do you know how much I regret bringing you home?”_

_She puts her hands behind her head and kicks her feet back and forth, “Immeasurable, I’m sure.”_

_Tony shuffles his papers until he finds a blank one. He lays it down the table and carefully positions his hand. Sketch’s left knee jerks up and hits the table, making it jolt – Tony’s pencil makes a deep ugly line on the surface._

_“Sketch!”_

_She jumps off of her chair and scampers into the kitchen, giggling. Tony doesn’t give one glance back to his chair as it falls to the floor when he bolts after her. Sketch immediately skids to a stop right beside his mother, who’s stirring something in the pot placed on the stove. Tony slows down and swipes at her. She ducks._

_“Sketch, Tony – what have I told you about playing in the kitchen?”_

_“Not to,” comes Sketch’s reply, complete with her psychotic-sun grin._

_“That’s right, so why are you two doing just the opposite of that?”_

_Sketch shoves him aside and he knocks several plates to the floor by accident. Still, they don’t stop leaping over counters while they try to grab at each other. Belle puts her hands on her hips, “Children!”_

_“Sorry!” they both yell back, but Tony grabs one mug and throws it at the girl standing by the table. She ducks and it smashes on the wall behind her._

_They get grounded that night; no television and bedtime at seven. Even so, both of them are laughing over it in the morning. Belle says they can roughhouse all they want, just don’t do it in the kitchen or break anything._

-

He’s taken to a hospital. Most of the people they pass by give Harry small smiles and nods and the man responds in kind. Not the first time he’s been here. Tony clenches his fist. He’s losing his nerve with every step they’re taking.

Harry knocks on the door first before they enter the patient’s room. He steps inside first, then followed by Harry.

The doctor standing over the bed is a young man with blue hair.

Manny turns to him first before looking at Harry, “He’s – ”

“Earlier than expected, I know,” Harry says and gives Tony a wary glance, “I’ll…leave him to you, then.”

Manny hesitates but nods anyway, “Yes.”

His friend gives him one last look before leaving. The doctor clears his throat, “Hello, Tony,” he looks down at the patient in the bed, eyes closed in perpetual sleep. Long locks of pastel spilled like paint are sprawled out on the pillow, belonging to the lady on the bed, sleeping peacefully.

“This is Paige.“

-

_Somehow, they’re not surprised that Sketch remembers the weirdest things even if she can’t remember when her birthday was and where the tap water came from. She knows that cyanide can be used to knock people out, that Vincent Van Gogh was said to be mentally unstable and that caffeine – the chemical in the ‘nasty brown stuff’ – was a drug. But she has no idea what the_

_difference between a bus and a van is, what a restaurant mascot is and why the stoplight only has three colors and why does it have to be red, yellow and green?_

_Tony makes it a hobby to try and guess when she’s going to sprout out trivia about the world anytime._

_Speaking of which –_

_“Did you know Elizabeth Bathory really bathed in blood because she believed it was going to keep her young?”_

_Tony nearly bites off the head of his spoon. His mother chokes on her juice._

_He pounds on his chest as he coughs, “Of – of all things you randomly remember.”_

_“Elizabeth Bathory, really? Couldn’t have picked someone a little more mild since we’re eating?” His mother has done a good job on not doing a spittake and Tony’s very proud of her._

_Sketch shrugs and slightly tilts her head down, “Sorry you almost spilled your drink.”_

_“Spittakes are for the weak.”_

_Sketch throws her head back and laughs at that._

-

“What happened to her?”

Manny sighs and takes off his glasses, “She’s been like this for most of her life. Since she was seven,” he cleans the lenses with the cuff of his sleeve, “Accidental poisoning. For some reason she didn’t die but went into a comatose state instead. Her family hasn’t given up on her.”

“How long has she been like this?”

“Twenty three years.”

He curses. His eyes trail up to her pale face, taking note of the curl of her lashes, the smoothness of her cheeks – exactly as he remembers. Somehow younger, somehow older.

“How are your dreams?”

Tony turns back to the doctor, “What?”

“That’s what brought you here, right? Your dreams? You wanted answers?” he folds his glasses and sets them on the desk beside the bed, “Unless I’m misreading this. You’ve been having these dreams for majority of your lives and never acted on them. What’s different this time?”

“Lives?” he pauses as he searches his brain for his memories of his dreams. That was right, each of his dreams mostly had different time periods. It was rather ridiculous, a plot fitting for a fantasy novel – two monsters punished for their crimes and made to live life over and over again.

Falling in love over and over again.

Hearts being broken over again.

He furrows his brow, “What do you mean?”

Manny leans forwards and hooks his hands together as he rests his elbows on his thighs, “How much do you believe about your dreams, Tony? What brought you here?”

-

_She’s been staring at the box in her hands for the past five minutes. She’s not shaking it or trying to see how heavy it is, she’s just **staring** at it._

_Tony raises an eyebrow, “Sketch, you’re supposed to open it.”_

_“What is it?” she brings it up to her eye level and turns it around; squints at the wrapping paper, “What’s with all the bells and the…ridiculously happy reindeers?”_

_“It’s a Christmas present.”_

_“What’s a Christmas and what’s a present again?”_

_Tony huffs and squats beside her. Somewhere in the six months of Sketch living with them, they didn’t remember to educate her about all the holidays._

_“You remember Halloween, right? Hallow’s Eve? It’s a holiday, remember?”_

_She nods._

_“Christmas is a holiday too. It celebrates the birth of the Christian Messiah, and people celebrate it by giving their loved ones gifts, decorating their houses with Christmas trees, tinsels and lights, sometimes they go caroling and have Christmas dinner,” he says._

_“Oh! So that’s why I thought the mall grew an enormous tree yesterday.”_

_“Yeah – they didn’t grow it, they set it up.”_

_“That’s so cool. You can set up trees?”_

_“Christmas trees, yes.”_

_“Can we set up a Christmas tree?”_

_Tony scratches the back of his head, “…that’s…a little expensive. Christmas trees are rather costly.”_

_Sketch’s shoulders sag and her smile falters, “Oh,” she looks down and fiddles with the ribbon on her present. They didn’t have it so bad though – two months in the same hotel room. Longer than they usually stayed in a place._

_The door opens and both children turn their heads to see Belle step inside with plastic bags and boxes of brightly colored balls, lights and unassembled pieces of a Christmas tree. Tony blinks, “Where’d you get that?”_

_“Bought it.”_

_“With what?”_

_His mother snorts, “In case you forgot, I actually got a job at the local restaurant. It’s hard to be a drifter when you’re feeding two kids,” then she grins, “And I thought you both would like to celebrate your first Christmas that’s really Christmas – with the tree and presents and all.”_

_Sketch grins back and claps her hands. Tony tilts his head, “You mean we’re actually going to start staying in one place?”_

_“Yeah,” his mom nods, “We can get a house, have our own kitchen, get both of you your own rooms.”_

_Tony slowly closes his mouth, unaware his jaw was hanging. He smiles, “Thanks,” it stretches into a boyish grin he hasn’t sported in years, “You’re really great, mom.”_

-

“I didn’t just come here because of my dreams,” he says, “I was – ” he’s not going to say desperate, damn him if he says desperate, “Curious. I saw Harry and then Robin; I wondered if you and Paige were real as well,” his gaze flickers to the patient on the bed, “And it turns out I was right.”

“But you’re not ready to believe that you’ve been through more than one life and that you weren’t really human?”

“No, that’s preposterous.”

“But you were willing to try and find if we were real?”

Tony exhales loudly, “Is there something I should know?”

Manny nods, “Yes.”

He turns to the door and signals for someone to come in. Robin steps inside, carrying a stack of notebooks and sets them on the desk. Tony doesn’t miss the glance he sends Paige. Afterwards, he excuses himself and leaves.

“You should know that those dreams weren’t just dreams.”

-

_Tony stays as silent as he can while he leans close to the door that is slightly ajar. He’d come downstairs for a glass of water and was about to tell Sketch, who at 11 in the evening was still watching TV (it must have been fascinating to someone who’d never seen one before, but it’s been three years, she needed to get over it), to get to bed but the voices coming from the speakers were rather…interesting._

_He can’t see anything from here, but he can hear things clearly._

_“…don’t know if he’s going to wake up. Is he ever going to wake up, doctor?”_

_A medical drama? Well, she did know random things about human anatomy so maybe this caught her interest. (Actually, what didn’t?)_

_“We can only hope. His brain is…strangely showing signs of activity – responses, but we can’t get him to wake up. This is good news, though. This is cause for hope.”_

_“Oh, thank God.”_

_A sappy medical drama at that. He moves to push the door open –_

_“Wake up soon, okay, Tony?”_

_He stops. Everything goes blurry for a second. Then he frowns. Way to make him confused there for a second, Sketch. He steps into the room and walks over to the couch, where he finds Sketch snoring while the blankets on top of her have nearly swallowed her. He tuts and puts the blankets away, folding them neatly, and then slips his arms under Sketch’s knees and on her back to take her to her bedroom._

-

There are twenty four notebooks all in all – every single one written in the same handwriting with the same contents: a timeline built on approximation of events, five names and several bad attempts at sketching.

All of them are owned by someone named Tony.

They all contain the same story too: two monsters, Tony and Paige, Time and Creativity, go too far with torturing their housemates and kill too many humans and are punished. They are reincarnated over and over, crossing paths, always the five of them, until one monster-turned-human has to die.

The stories even progress. In one journal, the one that’s faded and tattered, there’s only one story. The one in the court until Tony’s (his) death when he got run over.

In another, there are two. Tony’s (his HIS) second death is by cancer.

The latest one is at his house. The one that contains twenty four stories of twenty four lives.

It’s really not that hard to believe with everything that’s laid out in front of him. Especially when he himself wants to believe.

-

_“How much do I get paid for this?” Sketch grins from behind the canvas she’s currently working on. Tony doesn’t look up from his Physics homework, “Five bars.”_

_“Five bars!” she huffs, “That’s the equivalent of a character bust. I’m doing a full painting, Tony. This is the Mona Lisa to your chicken scratches – ” he glares at that “ – and you’re paying me five bars of chocolate. That better be some damn good bars.”_

_“Do you accept Dairy Milk?”_

_“I will burn this canvas to the ground, Tony, I swear to mom.”_

_Maturely, he rolls his eyes and sticks his tongue out, “Fine, I’ll raise the number. Do you want Hershey’s or Toblerone as well?”_

_“Toblerone!”_

_“Your teeth are going to fall off one day, you’re such a sweet tooth.”_

_He’s only met with a chuckle as she returns to her work, mumbling something about no-good people who make others do their projects and can’t pay well. Tony ignores her. Several minutes later, it registers that the television in the living room has been on for the past hour or so and the noise has drifted through the walls because the music is getting louder._

_“Sketch, you left the television on.”_

_“No, I didn’t.”_

_He frowns, “Yes, you did. It’s playing in the other room,” he pauses as he catches a few words of ‘doctor’, ‘nurse’, and ‘check the monitor’, “Is that your med drama? It’s been two years and that thing is still running?”_

_“What?” Sketch moves to look at him, “I don’t watch medical dramas.”_

_‘Then what is that?”_

_Both of them strain their ears to listen to the noise. They hear a nurse tell the mother to stay calm._

_Sketch shrugs, “Is it your mother’s?”_

_“No, I don’t think she watches those. Not to mention she’s not home right now.”_

_“Huh,” she stands and makes her way to the living room. Tony follows. When they open the door, the television is on but there’s nothing but static on it. The voices are still talking._

_Everything flickers black in Tony’s vision for a moment and he clutches his head, staggering. Sketch catches him in time, “Whoa, easy.”_

_“I think he’s waking up!”_

_They both look at the television. It’s still static. But there are more beeping noises, more footsteps, doors opening and closing._

_“What is that?” Sketch asks. Tony shakes his head._

_“We’re getting REM readings, doctor.”_

_There’s a gasp, it must be the mother, Tony thinks. But what’s really racing across his mind is that, the television is static, but the voices are going through just fine._

_“Oh no, we’re losing him again.”_

_The voices start going blurry until eventually, they’re replaced by static._

_Both of them move to turn the appliance off. Tony unplugs it._

_Just as they’re by the door, the thing suddenly flickers on, still in static and booms, “TONY, YOU’RE DREAMING.”_

_They clamp their hands over their ears at the outburst. Sketch’s eyes move to the outlet. The plug’s far away._

_“Tony, what is happening?”_

_His eyes dart from the empty outlet, the static screen and to Sketch, “I don’t – ”_

_“Please, Tony, it’s been six years!”_

_He blinks and exchanges looks with Sketch. The voice is familiar._

_“Mom?”_

_“Whatever you’re seeing right now, son, it’s not real, it’s just a dream. Please – ”_

_“Mrs. Renore, please calm down – ”_

_Renore. That was – “Come back, to me, please, Tony.”_

_“Tony, **what is happening?** ” his head snaps to Sketch, whose green eyes are blown up wide with fear and…there are tears at the corners of her eyes._

_There’s a scramble, a shriek and then silence. The television flickers off. Tony releases a breath he doesn’t realize he’s been holding. There’s a pregnant pause._

_“Tony,” Sketch’s voice is shaky and she’s looking at the floor, eyes glazed over, “Did the television just say that I’m not real?”_

-

“This has been different though,” Manny says, “For twenty four lives, you’ve been having dreams. Paige has been having visions – and she’s always too late to tell you.”

He closes his eyes at that.

“But you, you have them from the start, but you never do anything about them. You’re interested enough to write them down, but you don’t try and tell Paige, and definitely not us. Even if it’s weird as hell, you never act on it, Tony.”

Manny raises an eyebrow, “What’s different this time? Why are you so easily believing?”

-

_They don’t tell his mother about it._

_Sketch has her knees hugged to her chest while Tony paces around his room, forehead creased. Really though, the only thing he’s doing is tiring his legs out and staring at the pattern of his carpet. The only thing his mind has been processing for the past three hours is what to believe, and frankly, he’d like to choose the option that said he was totally fine._

_“It actually makes sense,” Sketch breaks the silence minutes later. Tony stops and glares at her, “Don’t you start.”_

_“No, think about it, Tony,” her voice is wavering, “It does make sense. Why else would I not remember anything about myself? Why would I know all of that weird shit that I blurt out?”_

_“Sketch, shut up.”_

_“Tony, **listen to me** ,” she gets off the bed and stands up, “I’m being logical here. The TV just turned on without being plugged, you said you’ve been hearing that ‘program’ for the past two years, I’m a liability to humans – ”_

_“Sketch, I said **shut up.** ”_

_“And the voice sounded just like your mom,” she pauses to catch her breath, “She’s on the other side. Tony – Tony, I may not be real – ”_

_He grips her shoulders and shakes her once, “ **Shut. The. Fuck. Up.** ”_

_Sketch freezes and he loosens her hold on her, “Okay, if there’s anything that’s real, it’s this, okay? That was probably a sick prank from one of my classmates. You’re real, Sketch. I’m real. My mom’s real. Okay? That was nothing. I’m not dreaming. I’m not in a coma.”_

_Sketch’s shoulders sag and her expression contorts to pitying. She shakes her head sadly, but says nothing._

_He doesn’t really believe what he’s saying. In fact, he’s doubting it with every word he says and they both know that._

_And if he really was in a coma, this was very bad._

_Because that means he’s fallen in love with himself._

-

Tony sighs and runs a hand over his face, “It’s not just the dreams. Really, they wouldn’t be enough for me to go looking for her.”

“Then what?”

A bitter smile graces his lips, “A coma did.”

-

_The television turning on and saying random things became a regular thing for the next year. Thankfully, his mother (the real one, he tries to convince himself but the longer time goes…) is away all the times it acts up._

_Sometimes, it’s the nurses and doctors talking._

_Sometimes, it’s his mom, the one on the ‘other side’, reading him stories, asking him to wake up, crying._

_Sometimes he feels bad for her._

_There are days he waits on the television, waiting for Sketch’s voice to drift through, because there has to be a logical explanation for her showing up…here…if he really was in a coma. There’s nothing._

_Sometimes, he finds Sketch in the backyard at night, when all of them should be asleep, staring up at the stars. Sometimes she cries. Sometimes Tony tells her that everything was fine, but she always asks him, “What am I, Tony?”_

_If she was a construct of his mind, then fuck him for breaking both their hearts. But she was real. She had to be. She could feel, she could think, she laughs, she cries, she likes chocolate and hates_

_vegetables, she’s scary smart and talented, she’s – he couldn’t have created an entire personality like that on whim._

_Unless it was reflecting his own._

_And it clicks in his mind that Sketch and he are somehow alike (but who didn’t have anyone who was sort of like them?)._

_Proud, talented in their own crafts, had a mouth on them, stubborn._

_But she had to be real. Emotions and feelings weren’t just something that could be faked –_

*

She’s not even shivering in that flimsy nightgown she’s wearing.

*

_– and Tony was talented, but not enough to be able to come up with an entire personality. An entire human being, who could love and hate and –_

*

“What about you, what are you doing here?”

The girl’s voice is almost a whisper, “I don’t know.”

*

_– really, he should have seen this coming because his walls are all breaking and he’s falling for everything the television says with every second. The only thing holding him now is the hope that Sketch is real. He couldn’t have controlled everything about her, however unconsciously._

*

Human? He thinks, but her indifference to the cold is…she sighs, her breath mists, she shivers. Oh. Human, then.

*

_He couldn’t have fallen in love with himself._

-

This was going to be incredibly weird. But then again, four people had just walked out of his dreams and one of them was claiming that said dreams were real.

Tony wants to hope.

And the numbness from everything feeling so surreal is making it easy to talk. So he hunches over, hands on his knees and sighs, “When I was ten, I got into a car accident.”

Manny doesn’t say anything. He continues, “I got into a coma for seven years. While I was asleep…I dreamt.”

“About what?”

“I remember the first thing I saw there was that I was in a park and there was this girl standing there. Just in a nightgown – hospital gown, really, now that I think about it. Pale skin, multicolored hair.” He looks at Paige, “But she couldn’t remember anything. Not her own name, not anything. She had no idea how she got there, what she was, just a plain blank.

“We befriended each other. And in the seven years I spent asleep in the real world, I spent seven years with her. Until – until the real world started to filter through the television in my head,” he pauses, “She was devastated. She began to question what she really was, whether or not she was real. Not unjustified, given that the television always reminded her that she might not have been real for every day of a year.”

Manny looks down.

“And then she,” he stops. His voice falters as he says the next part, “She died.”

-

_He knows it’s a dream. Accepted it for months, but still. Still, it shouldn’t end this way. If he could control everything here, then Sketch had to live. He’d gladly stay here even if that meant this place wasn’t real._

_“Hey, hey, easy. Stay with me, now.”_

_“Tony, go.”_

_“Sketch.”_

_“Tony – ” she coughs, blood spills down her cheek and onto her shirt, on the floor, “Go.”_

_School shooting. The class tried to get away. Tony was about to be shot. Sketch pushed him aside._

_“Go on,” she smiles, teeth streaked with blood, “I mean, I’m not even real – ”_

_“Don’t say that.”_

_“ – so how bad can it be, huh? Get out of here. All of here,” she raises a hand to touch his cheek, “Go find your mom, your real one. Send her my regards.”_

_And when Sketch closes her eyes, Tony runs._

-

Manny doesn’t do anything. Tony’s inwardly thankful and he continues, “She died and I got out of there. I woke up. I fought to wake up. No fucking point in staying –” he chuckles dryly, “Even my mom wasn’t real there.

“I was seventeen then. A year later, I started having weird dreams. At first, I shrugged it off because it was mostly about me wandering what looked like ancient civilizations. And then…she showed up,” he smiles, “She wasn’t called Sketch there, though. She was Creativity, and then later, Paige. Then you guys came. Until the trial, the punishment and the different lives.”

“You came here for Sketch, then?” Manny asks.

“I came here for all of her – every version of her, whether it was Sketch or Creativity or Paige,” he snaps, “The question is why the hell was she in my head before I started having dreams.”

Manny clicks his tongue, “Your punishments work oddly,” he says, “You’re not supposed to remember anything, I think, but somehow all of that leaks through by visions, or in your case, dreams. So maybe,” he smiles, “Maybe you didn’t fall in love with a construct of your mind.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. Manny smiles fully, “She was in a coma two years earlier than you, so maybe – maybe your coma dream was as real as this place.”

-

He visits her nearly every day. Knowing his relationship with Harry, Robin and Manny made it…a bit hard to approach them. He hasn’t killed anyone in this life but if what they said was true then this was going to be one bumpy ride.

Still, Manny is all smiles whenever they meet.

“Do you think she’s going to wake up?”

That’s one question that makes the younger man (technically, since he’s a very old entity, but in this life…) lose his demeanor. His eyes look old. Centuries of enduring a game of reset finally showing, “I don’t know.”

Tony frowns and opens his mouth to speak, but Robin’s voice by the door cuts him off.

“One of you has to die for the other to survive.”

Tony turns to him.

“That’s how it’s always been. Not in one life have both of you spent the rest of your lives together. It’s always one or the other. Otherwise, it’s both. Remember number thirteen? That was a nasty piece of work,” he says. Tony glares. Still, he continues, “She had to die in your dream for you to get back here. It’s a bargain. If she wakes up, you die. If you die, she wakes up. That’s how it works.”

“How sure are you?” he seethes.

“I’ve never been wrong about anything regarding your punishment so far.”

Cocky. Right, he’d forgotten this one was an absolute asshole. No surprise considering Paige herself was rooting for this one.

“Robin,” that’s Manny, “Don’t push him.”

The man clicks his tongue and waves, “Whatever. Good luck figuring out how to wake her up without any of you dying.”

-

Robin’s an ass. But so far, he’s a smartass too, because Paige is starting to wake up.

And Tony can feel his heart bursting out of his chest.

“Steady,” Robin loops his arms with Tony’s to help him back on his feet, “Come on, you want to see her, right? She’s just down the hall. _Get yourself together, Tony.”_

It’s a messy three-legged race to get to Paige’s room. Manny and the other doctors and nurses are busy as they check her vitals and monitor her brain activity. From where Robin and Tony are standing at the door, they can see her eyelids start to move.

“She’s waking up.”

“I know, now _walk._ ”

They manage to get a seat beside the bed, far away enough that the doctors are able to work. Tony clutches his chest. He’s feeling light-headed.

“Hey, hey, stay with us,” Robin snaps his fingers in front of him, “You held on for months with her like this and now she’s going to wake up, so be ready to greet her Tony. Don’t be rude, don’t leave her alone.”

Right. He needed to keep himself awake.

Paige’s eyes open. A sharp pain races from his chest throughout his body and he falls out of the chair.

“Damn it, Tony!” Robin is at his side in an instant and is helping him sit up, “Come on. Come – ”

He follows the man’s line of sight and turns to the bed.

Paige’s green eyes are looking at them.

Her smile is shaky and weak, but it’s there, however small.

Her eyelids start to slip shut.

No. No no no. He waited for so long, he waited – fourteen years, he – the pain in his chest slowly begins to ease. He tries to look past the nurses crowding him, trying to get him in a comfortable position; tries to meet Paige’s eyes.

And then the pain goes away completely in a millisecond.

And when Paige closes her eyes, Tony runs.


End file.
